LETTER CVIII

London, March 19, O. S. 1750.

Mydearfriend: I acknowledge
your last letter of the 24th February, N. S. In return
for your earthquake, I can tell you that we have had
here more than our share of earthquakes; for we had
two very strong ones in eight-and-twenty days.
They really do too much honor to our cold climate;
in your warm one, they are compensated by favors from
the sun, which we do not enjoy.

I did not think that the present Pope was a sort of
man to build seven modern little chapels at the expense
of so respectable a piece of antiquity as the Coliseum.
However, let his Holiness’s taste of ‘virtu’
be ever so bad, pray get somebody to present you to
him before you leave Rome; and without hesitation
kiss his slipper, or whatever else the etiquette of
that Court requires. I would have you see all
those ceremonies; and I presume that you are, by this
time, ready enough at Italian to understand and answer
‘il Santo Padre’ in that language.
I hope, too, that you have acquired address and usage
enough of the world to be presented to anybody, without
embarrassment or disapprobation. If that is not
yet quite perfect, as I cannot suppose it is entirely,
custom will improve it daily, and habit at last complete
it. I have for some time told you, that the great
difficulties are pretty well conquered. You have
acquired knowledge, which is the ‘principium
et fons’; but you have now a variety of lesser
things to attend to, which collectively make one great
and important object. You easily guess that I
mean the graces, the air, address, politeness, and,
in short, the whole ‘tournure’ and ‘agremens’
of a man of fashion; so many little things conspire
to form that ‘tournure’, that though separately
they seem too insignificant to mention, yet aggregately
they are too material for me (who think for you down
to the very lowest things) to omit. For instance,
do you use yourself to carve, eat and drink genteelly,
and with ease? Do you take care to walk, sit,
stand, and present yourself gracefully? Are you
sufficiently upon your guard against awkward attitudes,
and illiberal, ill-bred, and disgusting habits, such
as scratching yourself, putting your fingers in your
mouth, nose, and ears? Tricks always acquired
at schools, often too much neglected afterward; but,
however, extremely ill-bred and nauseous. For
I do not conceive that any man has a right to exhibit,
in company, any one excrement more than another.
Do you dress well, and think a little of the brillant
in your person? That, too, is necessary, because
it is ‘prevenant’. Do you aim at easy,
engaging, but, at the same time, civil or respectful
manners, according to the company you are in?
These, and a thousand other things, which you will
observe in people of fashion better than I can describe
them, are absolutely necessary for every man; but
still more for you, than for almost any man living.
The showish, the shining, the engaging parts of the
character of a fine gentleman, should (considering
your destination) be the principal objects, of your
present attention.